


She's just a Maid

by TwilightsDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/M, Hermione Granger-centric, Hermione is kind, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Possessive Behavior, Sane Tom Riddle, Seer Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle Needs a Hug, War, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightsDawn/pseuds/TwilightsDawn
Summary: Tom Riddle is born from a loveless union, tossed aside because of the curse that had found its way onto his skin. The kind of curse that rots his flesh and dampens his magic. A useless child, a weak heir that has no place among the more powerful of their kind. It makes sense that when the only one that had ever shown him kindness betrays him for another man that he seeks vengeance and burns the world down.OR he would do that in 13 years if left to his own devices.Enter Hermione Granger a seer, that has never been wrong about anything in her short 16 years of life. All her predictions have come true, and so she sets out to find a way to save him from himself and break his curse before the Darkness swallows him up.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Merope Gaunt/Tom Riddle Sr.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	1. The Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by A Duke's maid, I was reincarnated as a maid, and a few others :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been reading too many Koren and Chinese novels and Mangas... on the train to and from work so this has been born. Enjoy!

He stands in front of the young maiden and drops to one knee extending out his hand and she looks at it. She does not bother to touch him nor look into the shimmering blue. She had broken the course upon that boy’s face. She had been the first to show him kindness. 

“I shall give you my body and mind. All that I am if you would have me.” He beseeches her among the white roses that make up the gardens of his home. She folds her hands in front of her, pulling them up in near a prayer to herself as she looks at his desperate face. That is begging her to say something, anything. 

And finally, the woman speaks. “I am sorry Tom.” She shakes her head. “I love Him.” 

His gut clenches and those pretty blue eyes widen. It is the feeling of shattering. It is never a good sign in these sorts of situations. Cards falling into place, and sands of time-shifting. The wind picks up and the flower petals blow away, the garden withers and dies around his feet as she leaves him there to his own madness and heartache. 

The woman that is viewing this in the smoke of the fire, her hands near the hearth, rubs her eyes as the fire twists and turns. Such a pitiful creature is the boy that she has seen. She tosses some herbs in order to see more, the smoke thickens and she watches it turn black. A future to come, the glittering of a guillotine, red enough to drown thousands. 

A civil war perhaps.

This was not good at all. No certainly not. She rose and rubbed her sweaty palms on her apron. 

She can not take her eyes from the flames as that man she has seen shows as a little boy. One that is sobbing holding onto his nightclothes and the tears are red and the blackened curse creeps up his body and steals near everything from him. Crippled, and left to rot. 

She wills the flames to tell her more, heart yearning for a boy that she has never met, to hug him perhaps, to tell him that it will be alright. And yet it will not. Each step to a man the boy takes leaks crimson and leaves nothing but stained footprints. His own pain to be placed onto others. 

She tears her eyes away from the flames. Hanging her head, she is to write this down. She has an obligation. But even as she moves to do what she has always been taught to do, by those who also have the gift while she has the ability to. She can not bring herself to.

The little boy's face is forever burned into her head, his frantic breaths as he tries to understand the injustice that has been cast upon him. Too young to do anything but seek comfort that would never come. 

Born to the misery she would say of loveless union, never to know the touch of another, starved of love and attention. Such is the perfect way to describe the boy with curse scars that travel up his body, words not meant to be read or gazed upon, curling and unfurling across flesh. Destined to fall in love with a girl that would not love him and his broken heart would lead to the need to destroy the person taking the throne. It is impossible to tell what will happen should this occur. 

She rises, goes to the kitchen, rinses her hands well, and then brings her finger to her lips thoughtfully. She can feel the sorrow and the hate that created such a boy, such a person still lingering in her heart. No matter how she tries to forget and write down the account for others to read and inform those that needed to be informed. 

He could die earlier if she gave a name… 

It should not matter a life for several to be spared. 

Yet, how could someone be so pitiful from life to death? 

Her brown eyes blink back a tear for Tom Riddle. Tom would become something that matched what his curse embodied when it was placed upon him maliciously. Perhaps it did not have to end that way. Perhaps she could be of some assistant to the fates other than telling of their possible outcomes. 

Oh that could be exciting!

Changing something for the better…

She had never tried it. Always had been trained to accept things the way that they were. In doing this she had never once been happy. She has watched hundreds of horrible things come to pass when she could help them. She doesn’t know if she can bear to let this one go as well. Someone that truly could be saved, with just one person extending their hand to help him. 

~/*\~ 

The gates open to her, she has forged her papers and she has done well in doing so. She has been hired and she steps in as the new maid. There is a pecking order to things, not that she expected to have direct access to the one that she seeks. It will only be a matter of time though, some of the older maids are being transferred and the current one assigned to the young master was not well-liked by what she had gathered. She had always been decent at making openings for herself she just has to be patient. 

She cleans the stairs doing her best to polish the nice hardwood. Some things were best done with hands and not magic. Besides everyone was convinced that even the smallest bit could curse them. Magic users were rare, and the ones seen as of late with a few exceptions were those to be feared. She has helped in the temple all her life, she knows how to live humbly and she knows how to clean by hand if needed. It just hurts her knees. She just wishes that some people would leave her be and she might be at least able to vanish the water and such without notice.

The loud nagging voice calls to her from 20 steps below. 

“How long are you planning on staying in the estate huh?” One of the higher ranking maids thundered up the stairs, dirtying some of the area that she had just cleaned. 

Herminoe just sighed not wanting to start this conversation. This task was one that was going to take a long time, even someone that had a higher position that did not have to do this sort of work anymore should have known that. 

“What's wrong? Did you leave your brain somewhere? You’re so out of it today.” Lavender gets far too close to her, her brown hair out of place and sharp brown eyes glaring. She had been looking for someone to yell at it seemed. 

“No.” Hermione carefully answers keeping herself deliberately tiny. She has plans and she will be damned if this disgrace of a woman causes her to falter. 

“Well when you're done cleaning go to the main building the kitchen servants need more hands.” The woman sneered pulling up on her dress as she avoided the more wet spots on the freshly cleaned stairs. 

Lavender seemed to be in a rush, but then again there were always those that were good at seemingly like they had something to do even when they didn’t. Tom Riddle would be 13 today now that she thinks of it. There are no parties planned. No announcements made. Nothing, this is the other house. It's smaller than the main but its sole purpose is to house staff needed to take care of the boy that his parents did not want. A home so that they would never have to even gaze at their son ever again. He could languish there without so much as a spare thought. 

Hermione twists the rag tightly. Her chest burning with the need to help, but not wanting to make the wrong move. She has one chance at this, one shot to save a life that so desperately needs it. 

The boy is still in his room above her and lying in bed because of pain. Lavender and the others had taken to calling him bipolar because of his seeming need to try and get attention and then be cold to any that offered. 

It's so hard to do nothing, now that she has decided to do something. She moves the bucket sighing deeply ready to head back to the main house. Only to hear the sound of a bell. That small ringing letting her know that Tom needed help. But no one was coming and the bell continued to ring. They were ignoring it. She waited for a solid minute. Her lip curled in disgust but she was one to take an opportunity when she saw one and this was a good one. 

It was time to introduce herself to the young master. 

“I am coming.” She decided to call for anyone that possibly could be considered to answer that call so that she can give an excuse to head upstairs. She knocks on the large doors twice and waits for a response. The sound seemed to drift like the bell through the empty halls, such an echo. She brings her hand to her chest to grip it slightly. 

How lonely... 

A small weak voice answers after what feels like an eternity. “Come in.” 

She does not have to be told more than once. She wishes to see the boy from her visions. 

The door creaks open with the slightest push and it is dark. There is only the faint light that is drifting in from the blinds that have been pulled only slightly open and the door behind her. The room is dusty and too warm as if there has not been a good source of airflow for the last couple of years. A small thing is hunched in on the bed coughing. His face is completely hidden in the way that he is curled in on himself. He turns towards the door and his dull blue eyes look that way. He can’t see her, the curse has dulled his vision. There are blackened lines that creep up his right side, some more faded than others, each messing with the flesh to become almost vain like. They would spread as time went on. 

It is much worse than the glimpses that she has seen in her visions. Her eyes moved from his face to the other parts of the room, clothes scattered about and at least 10 used water glasses. The mattress is starting to become exposed from the corner as the sheets were falling off of it. He isn’t even dressed in day clothes...

It should not surprise her that no one is taking care of him, but her anger still holds. 

“It’s hot.” The little boy says to the headboard as he tries to hold himself up. “I want to take a bath. I don’t need an attendant, just prepare it.” 

“Of course.” She makes her voice light, kind, friendly even. “I will get one ready for you. It will only be a moment.” 

Tom does not answer her. He just turns from her and glares hard at the pillow. As if willing her to leave already and leave him there. It hurts her heart, something awful, that feeling of loneliness, the hopelessness that this room offers. She quickly leaves his room and fills the tub and heats it magically, careful that none see her nor hear her. Before all but jogging back to him. 

It's stupid, foolish even, but she feels that he has been alone for too long. 13 years is 13 years to many. 

“Young master the bath is ready now.” She opens the door and pokes her head inside. 

“I can bathe myself. Go now.” It's an order, but it lacks really any emotion to it. So heavens could forgive her for not actually following it. She watches the frail child reach out in front of himself and his limbs shake as he slides his feet onto the floor. His attempt to brace on the nightstands sends the cups flying and crashing to the ground along with him. 

Broken glass and water go everywhere. And Tom just lays there. Pulling at himself to make his limbs work properly, holding himself up barley by his elbows. 

“Urg.” He gasps and proceeds to curse loudly. “Damn it. Damn… it…” His head lowered in defeat with each attempt. 

“Are you alright?” It's obvious that he isn't... Hermione bends slowly down near him, not wanting to upset him even more by panicking when there was no need to. She gently brushes his shoulder and he jerks himself away.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Tom hisses, through barred teeth. 

“There are glass shards in front of you. It's dangerous for you to be on the floor.” She calmly explains. 

“Leave.” He demands. 

“Master Tom.” She starts.

“JUST LEAVE!” He yells at her and manages to get himself into a crawling position. His arms straining and just about to give out and topple him right into the glass. 

It wouldn’t do, not in the slightest. She sighs and breaks just about every rule that they told her about living in the service. She disregards the order and puts her hands under his arms and lifts. 

“I told you not to touch me!” He yells right by her ear as she hoists him up into the air so that his little feet dangle in the air and safely away from the glass. 

“I must not have heard you correctly.” She smiles ever so slightly as he flails. “If you were to step on that glass and get hurt, who would it be that was punished?” She hums. “And how will the young master move himself around if he is to cut his feet?” She sets him gently back on the floor away from the bed and the glass. She doesn’t let go of him however as he wobbles. “All I am saying is that I don’t want to get in trouble and it would be very unfortunate for you to hurt yourself.”

“Don’t speak nonsense. I don’t even know who you are, and who would even care.” The boy spits. 

“Me?” She laughs softly, releasing all but his shoulders. “I am a maid.” 

“Eh?” He squints so that he can look at her, his voice softening slightly, but still not unguarded. “I know that. You can go now.” 

She smiled a little at his change of tune. “What if you were to get injured because of your poor eyesight? No, I think I will make sure that you reach the bathroom.” She gently pushed on his shoulders. 

“Let go.” He repeated trying to pull away. “Leave.” 

He whined a lot, didn’t he? It was almost cute. He at any rate was going to get himself hurt by his need to yank away and he wasn’t strong enough to actually walk without assistance to the destination. It looked like the best option was to carry him. She scooped him up bracing him on the lower back and under his legs. 

At first he is frozen and she watches in amusement his face go from shocked to angry. 

“WHAT ARE YOU…” He stuttered out. “Is there no limit to how rude you can be?” 

He sounded so angry and outraged she had to bite the inside of her cheek not to laugh. 

“Young master you will give yourself a headache with all your shouting. The bathroom is not far from here, if you keep resisting by the time that we get there the water will be cold.” Hermione attempts to reason. 

But ever the child he keeps thrashing like she is putting him through the most horrible thing imaginable. One would think that she had insulted him or taken his dignity with the way he was acting. However, she did not know how great his pride could be if he was just going to crash into things if she did not help him. 

“Let me go!” He yelled as she opened the door. 

“I mean it.” He cried louder as she took the first steps into the hall. 

“Damn it.” He curses some more, squirming worse than any fish she had ever seen. She lets his hand punch her face and keeps walking. 

“You can’t touch me.” He closes his eyes and stills giving in at last. 

Yes, there was a rumor, an awful rumor that if a person was to touch Tom Riddle his curse would spread to that person. Some said he did it purposely to make the maids that mistreated him leave and disappear. But she knew the truth. It was not contagious. She continues down the hall and sets him on the tile floor. 

He braces himself on the wall and makes his way closer to the tub as she watches the display. He was determined, she would give him that. 

“You can go now.” He tells her not to bother to face her while doing so, focused on getting where he needs to go. 

He hits his toe on the sink and proceeds to curse softly and sit on the floor rubbing his foot. Thinking on it she wonders where he learned all the foul language that he seems to know. He probably was covered in bruises. She shakes her head and he was ever so stubborn to refuse to ask for help. She walks closer and though he hasn’t turned to look at where her hand is, he responds to her closeness with a low growl like some sort of animal. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“I want to help you.” Hermione feels slightly annoyed trying to keep it out of her tone. She was trying to save this brat. "If you continue this way you won't be able to get into the tub.” 

“You are rude.” Tom looks at her with those clouded blue eyes. “You need to learn manners.”

She can't help herself. She laughs, who was he calling rude? 

“Shut up.” He shuts his eyes and his face gets super red. “Are you doing this because you pity me? Is that why you're acting like this?”

“Acting like what?” Hermione feels almost slightly offended by the question. 

“Like you care! I know you don’t! You are like them, lying to me.” The curse around his right eye twists, the shadows shifting with magic that he cannot use. 

“I do pity you.” Hermione says honestly, crouching down to his level so that she can see him. “Because it seems that none have taken care of you and that saddens me greatly.” 

He looks away from her. “I see.” That voice is soft and reserved and does not suit him at all. It is almost as if she has taken the fight out of him without even knowing it. “I understand. Please just don’t touch more than the clothes…” 

So she helps to undress him, careful to only touch the buttons. He is thinner than any 13 year old should be. The curse stole from him some of the nutrients he put into his body, as well as fed off his magical core. It looked painful, she could see his ribs and the way those wrists look too thin. She will try and help him… perhaps she can break the curse long before that girl and do more than try to prepare him for that possible rejection. She adverts her eyes while he gets in to find him a towel. She finds that but not the bathing supplies. 

“Where are the bathing supplies?” She is tempted not to break the silence that has formed between them. Tom looks comfortable in the tub like he has needed one for years, and by the looks of his greasy black hair, he probably has needed one. 

“No need to ask.” He mutters. 

“You’ll need them.” She insists. 

“In the drawer.” 

“Where…?” There were so many drawers, rich people… “Ah I found them, and the wash towels or hand towels?” 

“You are the one with eyes.” He says sarcastically. 

Yes a teenager, be it a young one. She shakes her head and continues her quick search.

He sighs deeply as if annoyed by her existence. “They are in the basket.” 

“I found them.” She smiles moving closer. “You know you're quite sweet when you want to be.” 

“You’re Impudent!” He shakes his head angrily. 

She is tempted to say ‘and you're cute’ but decides that would be pushing it a bit too far. Instead, she gets close to the tub with full intent to clean his hair. He actually flinches when she holds up the soap to show him. 

“Don’t touch me.” He repeats quickly holding hands in front of him, providing a barrier. 

“I am not touching you, only cleaning you.” She says gently now taking this as perhaps more than just his curse as a reason that he doesn’t want to be touched. 

“Go away.” He repeats. “You will get infected if you touch me.” He warns darkly when she doesn’t move away from him. 

She takes his hand that nearly smacks her in hers, holding it lightly, easy to pull away if he so wishes. “The curse is not contagious.” She looks into those shimmering eyes and smiles. “I know that is a lie. You know it is too. It's not contagious even the doctors and high magicians have said so. So please, don’t lie to me about it.” 

“How do you know that? How would they even know?” He takes his arm from her sullen again and reserved. 

“I just know in my heart and I have faith.” She moves closer to him. Holding onto the tub so she is leaning a little on the edge. “Can you see me now? Even if it's blurry? Can you see and know I’m not lying, nor afraid?”

He looks at her and she can see herself reflected in those dull eyes. He looks at her for a long time and slowly raises his wet hands. They tremble, and he pauses inches from her face.“Can I touch you…” 

She almost doesn’t hear his wish. 

“Yes, of course.” She grants it.

“Even if you might get cursed.” He clarifies a bit more strongly, clearing his throat. 

“You won’t curse me.” She closes her eyes as small, curious, and not at all gentle hands touch her face with unpracticed fingers. She lets him pat her cheek and touch the cloth to her long sleeves. She lets him brush one against her hair and there is something so innocent, scared, and curious in his movements that hurts her. Hurts her greatly that perhaps this is his first time in a long time touching another person. So no matter how it hurts her heart she smiles. She smiles for the boy only a few years younger than her that she will save. 

~/*\~

She lets him touch her. 

She shows no fear, no disgust. She simply closes her eyes and smiles. She smiles at him as he feels along her soft tan skin. Smiles like he is not a monster, that she really is okay with him touching her. And all that he can think… is she was warm. 

He lets go of her and misses that warmth. But he can't keep his hands there forever. He can't because he knows that it is weak to do so and he always is showing how weak he is. She already pities him. He doesn't want any more of it. She opens her eyes and he can see the faint traces of golden brown and he takes that look in to hold onto it for later. She touches his shoulder and he lets out a soft gasp. 

She does it so kindly, why is it so soft? 

Why? 

He wants to curl up. It has to be a dream.

“Do you not like it, does it hurt.” She is too concerned. 

He should shove her off or assure her. 

“No.” He manages.

He lets her start to bathe him. He can’t think of a recent time that he has allowed anyone else to. When anyone else had attempted, unafraid of being cursed by him. 

“What is your name…” 

“Huh?” She turns back to him and he tries to hide his embarrassment to care enough to ask her that. 

“What is your name.” He focuses on the water. 

“Hermione.” She smiled wider at him.

She was weird. 

She sighed deeply to herself as if she was thinking too hard about something a far off look on her face. “Should I do your hair?”

“You sound so dejected.” He tilted his head trying to understand the stranger that was so close to him. 

“I am just worried that you may splash me like earlier if I try.”

He had hit her with more than water hadn’t he. He took a deep breath. He might regret this. “Wash it.” 

He hopes she is different. He wills it. He is not stupid enough to bet on it nor believe it will last.

Her face lights up as if he has given her the best gift possible and he feels the corners of his lips tugging upward. 

“You smiled.” She sounds so very pleased with herself. 

He scowled. “I laughed at you. There is a difference.” 

She finishes cleaning him, even though it is slightly painful. It's not her fault, but she frets over him like a small child. It is annoying. “I want to rest.” 

“Of course.” She helps him out of the tub. She helps him into a towel and robe. 

“I can walk. Properly escort me to my room.” He commands and she listened to him, letting him grab her hand. He lets that warmth fill him as they walk. "This is the first time, anyone has escorted me." He tells her. 

He doesn't know why he does, it leaves him open for more pity. It's just been so long since anyone was willing to talk to him. He feels her hand tighten slightly on him as she acts as his guide. The rest of it dies on his tongue as it is the first time in recent memory as well that he has touched anyone and they have not pulled back or away in fear.

~/*\~

It's a long walk back to the room. Hermione easily helps him change for bed even with his insistence that she knew nothing. Which is only partially true. It is not like she has ever really dressed or undressed a person, nor is it like she would know where everything is located in quarters that she has never been in. She waits till he is mostly asleep to clean the room up a little with a small bit of magic to help.

He hardly puts up a fight when she tells him she could come every day to clean and it wouldn’t get as messy. She would do it even on top of the other chores if needed.

“You talk too much.” He mumbles into his pillow as she finishes up to leave.

It is only after she leaves and shuts the door that she really has the ability to let her smile fade. She had been lucky enough to help today, but that did not mean that she would have another opportunity soon. Tom needed someone there for him that was better than Lavender, the question was just how could she get the desired transfer? 


	2. The Maid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this day and age, we need fluffy things. 
> 
> ôヮô

She was born to a small family, farming, nothing special. When she was young, or younger, as she is not that old she would play among the fields of gold. She would chase the birds and gather wildflowers to bring to her mother. It was a good time before the visions started. She had been happy she likes to think, as happy as a naive child that has no idea how the world is supposed to work could be. It never dawned on her the little food they had on the table, nor how cold or harsh the winters could be on her father as he went about his tasks. Hermione had been a spirited, carefree, child. Until the day she had a nightmare, she had been awake and a feeling of dread had hit her so strongly that she had nearly vomited. 

_‘Her father should not go to town.’_

It still haunts her at night even here in this older bed, among the smaller maid quarters. Her father went to town even with her urging and there was an accident and he died. Her mother was devastated. And Hermione would only continue to have more visions. Little things from feelings about how animals were doing, to bigger things like seeing people do things seconds before they happened. Her visions were not wanted by her mother. She thought Hermione, her little girl, was going crazy or a spirit had possessed her to make horrible things happen.

The temple, though, knew what her gift was. Still now and then she still sees it as a curse. A seer and a powerful one at that. Trelawney had trained her to use her gifts as well as the others at the temple. They were to help predict important things in order to change the world. They left though who was to decide what to do with the prophecies to those that were in power. 

And Hermione had never been settled with that. 

Tom Riddle the boy she has just officially met could and would probably have met a sooner end should others have seen what she had. And such a child… such a child should not be alone. 

No child should be… she had been alone for such a long time. 

She blinks, feeling like she should be over this. She sits up and rests against the headboard. She had to break his curse and she had to do so sooner than later. That awful feeling was crawling up her throat, the dread of what could come. 

How to help was the question? 

The best physicians and Magicians had all been called years ago to solve this puzzle and who was she in comparison to them? An only somewhat educated witch with the ability to sense certain future events. 

Wonderful…

Still she knew a few ways to break curses, she had seen some of them. 

1) Some curses could be broken by forcing the person who cast the spell to take it back  
2) Some curses could only be broken by advanced potions and rituals.  
3) Advanced magical sacrifice to the divine. 

She doubted the person that caused such pain to take root on a very small and vulnerable child of a noble house would willingly take the curse away. Still, it brought up a plot she had not thought about as she had sandwiched herself into this mess head-on. Who cursed Tom Riddle and why? It most likely was a revenge of some sort. Which left no short of people that would want to take action against the Riddles. What she had gained from the other maids was Tom Sr. and Merope were hardly flawless nice people. And she would have less than favorable things to say about parents that did not love their son when he desperately needed them. 

She did not know the rituals needed nor the advanced potions to help him that way. Mixing herbs together to help dull pain she could do. But anything advanced was certainly out of the question. Words, there had been words on his ever twisting curse, or at least symbols some of them that she was able to recognize. She could look into them. Try and help that way. Because as it was She did not have anything to sacrifice that had meaning to the divine. 

Hermione sighed. She had brought some books with her but not all of them would be able to help with the translations that she seeks, the best that she can do is be close to him. Give him the care he needed, help him to continue to be strong. The woman that she sees in her visions seemed to have done wonders with such an action. 

The high priestess had said one of the most powerful of all magic was Love. She isn’t sure she can love a curse to death, but she supposes that anything is worth a try. 

Sleep did not come that night to her, her mind always so overactive. She doesn’t know if she wants to dream. She might see that future where the small boy of 13 she has already attached herself to would suffer unimaginable heartache.

Lavender found her as she set about her task of window washing. 

“Hermione.” She gets really close to her face as she decides to yell. Hermione nearly flinches at the volume but holds her ground. “Because of your antics, I have gotten in trouble with Lady Mcgonagall and have even more chores to do. If anything like this ever happens again I am firing you. Do you understand?” 

“I only answered the bell.” Hermione says calmly knowing that despite her authority Lavender could not fire her. “The young master needed assistance and I assumed that you were busy and answered the call.” 

The maid in front of her trembled with rage and then quickly spun on her heel. Hermione smiled despite herself. The woman could huff and puff as much as she wanted. Hermione has already earned her place. She magically cleaned areas and did more work than any other maid and soon, if the madam heard of her befriending the young master she will have the job she seeks. 

It takes most of the day to get what she needs to do completed. It's late afternoon that she makes her way up the stairs to Tom’s room. She knocks and hears no answer. Despite not having an invite she had said that she would take care of the mess and so she does. 

She enters and starts vanishing what should just be taken care of, making sure that it would go to its proper location. She gathers the shirts and places them in baskets that she will later take to the laundry and cleans out the fireplace. Then she starts to move the furniture in order to mop the floor properly. 

Tom stirs and opens his eyes to the few candle lights she has lit. 

“What!” He looks about him, though it is impossible to tell just how far he sees. 

“It's just me.” Hermione moves closer so that he can see her. “I promised to come every day and help to keep this place clean.” 

He rubs at his eyes. “You came?” He asks as if trying to place her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“But of course! I always keep my word.” Hermione said proudly. 

“You're loud.” He complains leaning his head against the wall behind him. 

“Sorry.” She lowers her voice. “ I will get more done tomorrow. It is getting late.” 

“I expected you to come sooner.” His soft demeanor changes to his colder one. 

“I had other work to do. I came during my off hours.” She wipes her hands on her apron. 

“Off hours?” He tilts his head as if he is unfamiliar with the idea. 

“I am not getting paid to be here, so during my non-working hours I will come to help you.” Hermione shifts the candles a little closer to where they are so the room will be brighter. 

“Why would you do that?” He mutters. 

“Because I want to.” Hermione said plainly. “What is it that you even do up here all day.”

“Do?” He tilts his head the other way. 

“Yes do you not want something to read perhaps you could see it if you brought it close enough, or some toys, or really anything like that.” 

“I am too old for toys.” Tom hisses. “And I can’t read, it's too blurry I have tried.” 

“Maybe glasses would help.” She tries kindly. 

“What would be the point my eyes just get worse and worse.” Tom rolls away from her. 

“It's not living to just sit here.” Hermione frowns. That horrible silence propelling her forward to fix the hole she just dug herself. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll come to bring whatever books you like when I get off work and read them to you. And if the young Master feels rested enough, we can go out onto the balcony and enjoy the cool air.” 

He doesn’t respond to her, so she takes that as an opportunity to bring her own book. For the next time that they met. 

~/*\~

“You are later than yesterday.” Tom greets her when she knocks at his door and opens it.

“It was a long day.” Hermione sighs deeply. “I will perhaps get the curtains done and then read to you alright.” 

“I don’t remember picking a book.” The boy folded his arms tightly around his chest. 

“And so I brought one of my own.” She held up an older book with stars on the cover. 

“Who gave your permission to come in here anyway.” He changes the subject. 

“The young master permits me to be in here. So here I am.” 

“I never said you could come at all.” He snips. “You just keep coming back.”

She is quite grateful that the boy in front of her in a way is sheltered. If she was serving anyone educated in the way of the wealthy and ruling class she would have been fired or possibly disgraced already with the way that she had been speaking freely to him. 

There are small miracles she supposes among the other things. 

Still she chuckles at the way that he glares at her. “Perhaps, however, I do not see the young master turning me away.” 

“I have, you didn’t listen.” He accuses, puffing up even more. His face is so red, and she can't hide her amusement. 

“I must have misheard you then.” Hermione puts down the cleaning supplies. “I can leave.” 

“No stay.” He hisses out closing his eyes not looking at her. 

“What was that?” 

“I’m not saying it again.” He growls. 

“Very well.” She turns from him and gets to work. She can feel his eyes on her though she can not tell if he can really see her. He eventually moves from his relaxed position and inches his way towards the end of the large bed closer to her. It's slow and deliberate and she thinks he might not be aware of his movements as he seems to do it instinctively. His breathing hard from hardly even moving. 

“Did you rest well?” She pauses in her work. Moving the curtains and taking the dust off the windows underneath. 

He doesn’t answer her instead, asking his own. “What did you do today?” 

“Master would like to hear me talk about my day?” She focuses on the window hoping that she does not give away just how interested that makes her. “I assure you it is quite boring.” 

“I don’t get to leave this room.” Tom says bitterly. “Tell me.”

It dawns on her the simplicity of life and how she took things for granted that Tom could not. Truly her life was blessed in comparison. Perhaps she would be his eyes then. 

“I worked in the kitchens today.” She starts and proceeds to tell him of the smells and the foods that she helped to prepare and about the staff she works with. “The kitchen has a lovely view of the gardens. There are many flowers planted there. Some smell so very sweet each breeze brings them in to mix with the smells of food and tea.” 

He closes his eyes as she talks head leaning against one of the posts to the canopy. His breathing becoming softer and the black on his face twisted less. 

“Young master. Do you still wish me to read to you?” 

Blue eyes creaked open. He shifted over a little and flopped onto his belly as she pulled one of the chairs to her. “What book is it?” He yawned.

“One my mother used to read to me.” Hermione smiled. “It’s called I told the stars about you.” 

“That's a kid's book.” He accuses. 

“And the young master is still a kid.” Hermione reminds him. 

“I am not.” He whines, proving her point for her rather well. 

“This is the story I brought.” Hermione reasoned. “It’s this or no story.” 

He sighed deeply, turning to face her. Those blank eyes blinking slowly. She relaxes into the chair and starts to read, it's not exactly something she thinks that Tom has ever heard before. She had reread it ahead of time to make sure that there was nothing too on the nose to bother the boy or remind him of how his family wasn’t the greatest. That and she wanted to make sure she could read it with no mistakes.

~/*\~

Her voice is soft, soothing, and she sits close to him but does not touch him. He is rather glad that she hasn’t made any moves this time around. He can just make out the book that is set on her lap and her vague outline. But he doesn’t have to see her now to know what she looked like. He has thought about it since that day in the bath and so far she has kept her promise. 

_I told the stars about you the night that you were born and then on._  
_Each night I told them how I had found someone that was so very precious to me, more than golden light. Who has passed them in wonder and delight._

He feels his eyes grow heavy thinking about the stars, how wonderful and vast they must be. He has never seen a star. Even when they are described he can not think of a person that could be that bright. Can not imagine how amazing it would be to explore things outside of this house. He can’t remember much of the gardens outside or people that were not servants. 

_I told the stars about you_  
_Each night I told them about your love for life, and the brightness in your soul. How your kindness to the world they could not hold a candle to nor hope to hold._

Stars twinkled in the heavens he had heard it before, a cold glow some had called them… He yawned wondering how light could be cold. 

_I told the stars about you._  
_Each night when I look out my window, I tell them how when I think about my sorrows you lessen them. How your simplest of smile warms my heart more than their glow ever could._

He hasn’t been smiled at very often. He isn’t sure that they exactly warm one's heart. Most of the time they seemed forced. 

_I told the stars about you._  
_Each night I swear I could hear them laugh, though they can not understand, for what you and I have is stronger than the pull of gravity and shall be longer than the rotations of the sky. I tell them that no matter how the world turns or pulls, that I shall stand beside my little one._

He would like to be loved that much… He thinks as he starts to drift to sleep. 

_I told the stars about you._  
_How unlike them I am yours and you are mine and even as you grow. Brighter than any star or bring wonder to every corner. You will never be alone no matter how far you wander._

He dreams of stars and a large golden moon that reminds him a little of Hermione's eyes. 

She comes to see him in the evenings, helping with little things bringing him new books, all of them children's books. He no longer cares. It is something that he looks forward to no matter how late it gets he waits for her. It's foolish of him and childish, but there is nothing else in his life to really look forward to. No one else visits, no one else cares or pities him enough to try and check on him past his warnings at them not to get too close. 

Hermione is the only one. 

And Tom wants her there more than just a few hours that he gets with her, especially because by that time he is tired, near too tired to soak in the attention that is given to him. He starts trying to shift his sleep schedule to make it possible to be less tired when she is around. 

She keeps the place neat, ensures that he has bathed, and reads to him. He starts to resent the other ‘caregivers’ if they even could be called that more and more. 

She starts bringing small treats from the kitchen insisting that he needs to eat more, and he knows that these things are not really good for him. But some things just taste too good to complain about how his teeth would be dirty from eating something or drinking something sweet. 

~/*\~

“Hermione.” 

She yawns rolling out of bed. It had been yet another long night. She really needed to perhaps set a time limit on what time she would come at and which time she would leave at. But Tom seems to jump with the need to see her more and she can not deny him that. Not when his life has been so challenging thus far. 

“Just a minute she says loudly. Throwing on her clothes faster than she would have thought possible and casting a quick glimmer on herself to make herself look better than she did. Magic was wonderful, she definitely took advantage of her skills. 

She opens the door and steps back “Madam.” She greets with a slightly bowed head. 

McGunagall stands there in the door frame and Hermione is very grateful that she has been keeping her small room clean. The older woman’s eyes trail the room and then land back looking at her face. “There are some changes around with the maids.” 

Hermione holds her breath hoping that this is what she has been waiting for, a transfer. Then again there was always the chance that she could be getting in trouble for her extra work...

“We are going to be understaffed for the week. I am warning you that the workload will be quite a lot in the next few days.” 

Hermione tries not to let her heart sink with that information and nods her head obediently. “I will do my best.” 

The older woman doesn’t smile but looks relieved by her fake optimism. “That is all that I can ask.” 

The days are long and grueling, there is no time to keep her promise to Tom to visit him and keep up their arrangements. She would have written him a note, but knows perfectly well that he would not be able to read it, nor was there a good way to make sure he received it. 

Still she felt as though she were letting him down in a way… but she would not be slipping into his room at those odd times of the night and morning. He would certainly be asleep. 

~/*\~

Hermione did not come one night. Tom had waited, he had waited till there was the sun coming through the thick blinds to his room and still she had not been there. He kept waiting so that he could express how upset he was at her, but she did not come the following day either. 

Day three he told himself that he hated her and that he should have known that it would happen. Sitting by the door waiting for her wouldn’t have done anything but made him look pathetic but he did so anyway. Because if he heard her voice he could confront her. 

By the fifth night he had started to wander close to the drapes just to see if he could see an outline that resembled her moving about the daily tasks but there was nothing or nothing that he can see. 

It's a horrible feeling that makes him lay in bed the next day after. It's no longer anger, but something dull and empty. 

~/*\~

Hermione opens the door first thing in the morning of the seventh day since she had seen the little master she is carrying baskets full of clean bedding and clothes. It is hard to contain her excitement that she actually was expected to spend the full day cleaning up here. She sets the bedding down and takes in the damage. It looked over the past week, the little ones' habits had returned and the room almost looked worse this time around. 

She started by gathering the dirty clothes and then by cleaning the floors, all the while the young master slept. Magic, such an easy way to get it all accomplished and even better when there is not a chance to be observed. She moves mountains of dust off the ceilings and the fixtures. Even repairs a bit of the furniture. Before sitting on the sofa to wait for him to wake. 

She doesn’t have to wait long. 

“Good afternoon young Master.” She gets up so that he can see her.

“You.” His eyes narrow.

“Yes, me.” She nods. “It has been a while.” 

“Where have you been!” He snaps. “I waited for you, and you never came.” She watches him clench and unclenches his fists. 

“I was assigned to the other parts of the house, the hours were not convenient. You would have been asleep and I was far too tired to clean.” She explains softly to him. It doesn’t have a calming effect. 

“You still should have come.” Tom folds his arms tightly around himself. 

“I did not think that you would miss me so.” Hermione touches his shoulder lightly. “Even if it is odd hours I will make an attempt to see you, if that is what you wish.” 

He doesn’t pull away from her touch which is a little surprising. He still looks like he is upset with her by the way that he is trembling and the way that his face holds that glower. 

“You are to come every day.” Tom demands. “I don’t care what your duties are, they are to me first.”

His face is all puffed up when he is angry and those blue eyes almost seem to have a spark of life behind them. Selfish and almost brat like, but she will allow it. He has been far from spoiled. 

“I would like nothing better, but you would have to tell those that are in charge of me that.” She despite herself risks pushing it. If Tom asks for her, there is no way that they can refuse him. “Otherwise I will have to work whatever hours that they tell me. I like spending time with you, but I can not do it always and keep my job.” 

Tom huffs and pulls a little from her touch. “You’re much better than the other maid.” 

“By the state of things we can agree.” She chuckles screeching a little at her cheek. It seemed for now at least that she was forgiven. 

Tom interrogates her about what she has been doing for the last few days as she sets about changing his bedding. She offers to have music brought up to his room for something to listen to as well as art supplies. She insists that being some sort of creative will help him and one does not have to be able to see fully to blend colors and create abstract paintings. Hermione just feels that getting him to do something besides lay in the dark and sorrow will help him. It doesn’t have to be all in one go. Breaks can be taken, but the boy needs to do something. He needs to live even if it is just a little bit. 

~/*\~

Tom hates the usual maid, as she is not Hermione and he does remember what she told him. She had other jobs that did not involve him. And that would not do. He had to ask for her to change positions and the person that could decide that was the one in charge of this household. That old grumpy lady. 

He has to take drastic actions to get the others to hear him. This maid never has listened to him. She just barely does her job, and now having been actually taken care of he does not want to go back to the way that things were. 

He wants Hermione and throwing a tantrum like a child seems like the only way to ensure that he is actually heard and understood. If he asked nicely then there was room for being ignored and Hermione to get into trouble. He doesn’t forget the way that Lavender's voice changed when she saw how nice the room looked. 

He nearly snorted at the way that she pretended that if he rang the bell and asked that she would do anything that he wanted. All he wanted for her to do was disappear. She was a liar and she ignored him multiple times and should have already guessed what he needed. Hermione seemed to be able to instinctively act. Giving him soft touches he didn’t know that he wanted, bringing a change of clothes before he even thought he would need them. 

“Get out! I don’t want you here. I want the other maid from the other day!” 

He throws dirty dishes at her and hits her with the metal pitcher that she always forgets to refill. He makes such a ruckus that many of the staff are standing out in the hall. He might not be able to make out their faces, but he knows they must be akin to shock. 

He wonders briefly if his outburst is enough to get a small notice from his parents. But as soon as the idea comes of seeing them. He finds that he doesn’t care, at one point he would have done anything to have them even look his way, and now he just feels tired. 

~/*\~

She gets the post but feels like there are all sorts of eyes on her now. All of them wondering what she has done to earn favor, and all of them watchful. Things are going to get very interesting soon, she can feel it with the way that Lavender and a few others are glaring at her. 

It matters little to her the rumors, the accusations that they must have on their lips. She has a goal and that goal will save more than one life. 

“Good morning, young master.” She gives her best smile as she carries the tea tray forward. “I took the liberty of picking out your breakfast.” 

“I don’t usually eat breakfast.” He tilts his head squinting his eyes trying to make out the things on the tray. 

“Which is why it is small.” Hermione sets it down in front of him. “The young master needs his strength. I thought we could see the gardens today. It is a very nice day. Not too warm and not too cold.” 

He turns from her and looks towards the crack in the curtains. She throws them open and lets as much light into the room as she can. He covers his eyes and she can hardly muffle her laughter. He gives a grunt and pokes at his food. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was outside.” 

“All the more reason. The fresh air will do you some good.” Hermione practically skips back to her spot. In a way, it feels like winning to be here at his side. Even if she knows that his health will go through a few relapses before he is older. He at least should enjoy life before those times, do things that he can, while he can. 

She is no closer to solving what the symbols on his face mean, but she is confident that her small meddles will help in the meantime. Tom already seems to have a little more energy, at least enough to try and make conversation. It had to be a good sign.


End file.
